Magic Is Power
by Mish
Summary: An exploration of Rumpelstiltskin's heart and mind as he reacts to what is happening in his life.
1. Heartbroken

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This will be a series of vignettes exploring the thoughts and drives of Rumpelstiltskin in particular, but other characters will be involved as well. I will release more chapters as I have them written. This first chapter is quite short. **Warning:** There will be spoilers from the show.

* * *

He approached the china cabinet slowly, his body feeling heavy as lead. The conversation with the Queen ran over and over in his mind, torturous and unending. The cabinet doors swung on silent hinges, and the china cup stood out, shining and aloof on its shelf. With a trembling hand, he reached for it.

_...You can rest assured I had nothing to do with that tragedy._

His fingers traced the pale blue pattern on its side. "I'm so sorry," he heard the girl say. "It – it's chipped." He whispered her words as he felt the small chip along the rim.

_And after her stay here, her...association with you...no one would want her, of course._

Turning, he walked across the great hall, his echoing footsteps reminding him of the emptiness of his castle, and his heart.

_Her father shunned her. Cut her off and shut her out._

The sun beat down mercilessly through the windows, casting glaring light on the hardwood floor, and on his soul. There was a reason he had the curtains nailed up before, but he had been unable to bring himself to close them up again.

_He was cruel to her! He locked her in a tower and sent in clerics to cleanse her soul with scourges and flame._

As he approached the pedestal, the golden chalice upon it glistened coldly. It held no appeal in his eyes, and he had no hesitation in removing it. In its place, the small china teacup stood proudly as a testament to what he had lost.

_After a while, she threw herself off the tower. She died._

His face crumbled as he stared at the precious cup, a reminder of that impetuous yet kind girl, his Belle. She was lost to him forever, but she would never leave his heart.


	2. Memories

For the past few months, he rarely visited the Dark Castle. The memories were too painful. There was no room he could go where Belle's absence wasn't felt keenly. Now that he stood at the entrance of the great hall, he could see the dusty evidence of neglect. The Queen's parting blow rang in his ears.

No. He would never make that mistake again.

Slowing as he walked past the table, flashes from the past came unbidden: the girl in her golden dress, spilling tea on the floor at his sharp jibe, then laughing nervously as he assured her he was not being serious; sitting on the table asking questions that delved too deeply into his personal history; laughing at his jesting and seeing right through his masks. She had a quality about her that he had not seen in anyone for hundreds of years. Braver than most, she stood up to his harshness and returned it with kindness instead. Most people were afraid of him; and while she may have feared him as well, she didn't allow it to cripple her in his presence. Sometimes it was refreshing. Other times, it was irritating beyond reason.

Turning around, he gazed out of the floor-length window overlooking the valley below. The late evening light was gradually fading, covering everything in a deep blue shadow. The window... He jerked as he remembered his sudden panic when she fell off the ladder, and he caught her in his arms. That was the first of several awkward moments shared between them. Even now he could almost feel her weight in his arms, the closeness of her face, the glimmer in her eye as she stared up at him, as much surprised as he was. He felt the heat rise in his face and turned away quickly, pushing the memory far back into his subconscious.

That was when his eyes fell on it: the spinning wheel, still and forlorn. It was there that hope was raised, only to be dashed to pieces moments later. That was the seat of his bitterest memory with Belle.

He approached it hesitantly, almost as if it were a sleeping beast that might be roused at the slightest noise. Reaching out, he touched the wheel gingerly. It moved without a sound. Walking around the contraption, he sat down at it, placing his hands as if preparing to spin. He used to do this to forget. Now he wasn't sure if he could ever forget, for the reminder of one loss only led to the other.

Closing his eyes, he leaned forward and rested his head against the wheel.

Her hand was on his thigh.

_Tell me about your son._

_I lost him. There's nothing more to tell, really._

Her sky blue eyes gazed at him, full of sorrow.

_And since then, you've loved no one, and no one has loved you._

"Why did you come back?" he whispered to the darkness, his voice breaking.

_I wasn't going to, but then something changed my mind._

He couldn't remember the last time he had been kissed. For all these years he hadn't missed it. But in that moment, he realized how much he did. The feel of her lips against his, the tenderness of her touch...it was almost as if life had been breathed into him again.

That was when his world came crashing down. He had been led along, deceived—and he had allowed it to happen. That was what made him the most angry. Feeling the rage surge through him once more, he tossed the spinning wheel on its side, jumping to his feet and striding away. He knew he could trust no one but himself. That was the rule he had followed for hundreds of years, and it had never failed him as long as he followed it.

The expression of hurt on Belle's face burned in his mind, and he roared in frustration. _She_ was hurt? Did she have any idea what she was risking? Was she aware of all the carefully laid plans that she was about to destroy in a single act of – dare he say it – _love_? Did she bother asking him if he even wanted this _curse_ broken? If she had truly cared for him, she would not have acted so selfishly.

No, he had been right. No one could ever love him. He couldn't allow it even if by chance someone did grow close to him. He knew he had become a monster, but it was the price he had to pay if he was ever going to have the chance to find his son. That was all that really mattered. Once he was reunited with Baelfire, everything would be different.

Bae...his heart ached painfully as his son came to mind, and his throat tightened in regret.

A movement to his right caused him to start, but he realized that it was only the mirror. Its cover had fallen off one corner, and he moved to fix it. The Queen. He couldn't stop the sneer from curling his lip. She was behind all of this, he knew. How far back she had been involved, he could only guess. Belle implied that she had only just met her on the road to town, but he wouldn't be surprised if that was a lie. The Queen had come close to succeeding, but he caught on before it was too late.

Grinding his teeth, he squeezed his hand into a tight fist. She had used Belle. With a deep sigh, he had to admit it to himself. It had been true love. It would not have begun working otherwise. Belle had loved him, and he in turn had fallen in love with her. The emptiness echoed hollowly inside him once more.

_You were freeing yourself!_

Her eyes blazed at him, full of passion and pain.

_You could have had happiness if you just believed that someone could want you. But you couldn't take that chance._

She didn't understand him. She knew nothing about him, really, except what he allowed her to see. But she was young and naïve, easily manipulated by the Queen...and also just as quick to fall in love with the unlovable.

_You're a coward, Rumpelstiltskin. And no matter how thick you make your skin, that doesn't change._

"I'm not a coward," he growled, pounding his fist once on the table as if to emphasize the point. He could see once more the hurt and anger in her face as he told her that he valued his power more than he valued her.

_No. No, it doesn't. You just don't think I could love you._

Again, she didn't understand. He needed that power. Without it, he truly would be the coward she accused him to be.

_Now you've made your choice. And you're going to regret it. Forever. And all you'll have is an empty heart and a chipped cup._

That was the last time he saw her.

She had no idea how painful it was for him to be the bad guy, how every word he spoke pierced his own soul as it pierced hers. It was all true. He meant every word, with the possible exception of the first part, when he said he didn't want her anymore. But he never would have spoken so bluntly if he had not already resolved to let her go. She had become a liability, and he couldn't risk her upsetting his plans anymore. He thought if he let her go, particularly in a harsh manner, she might be angry for a while, but she would get over him and move on with her life. And she would be safe.

Glancing sideways across the room, he saw the chipped cup where he had left it on the pedestal. He couldn't stop himself. Crossing over, he picked it up, its cool form fitting familiarly into his hand. He swallowed hard, knowing that once again she was right. He did regret hurting her, even if he had meant it for the best. If he had known how she would be treated when she returned home, he never would have turned her out. It would haunt him forever.

And he would never forget.


	3. The Secret Is Out

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This scene and the next couple scenes are actually taken from the episodes, but the intent is to explore the thoughts and motivations behind what is said and done.

* * *

The bed was hard, and the bars were bringing back too many unpleasant memories. He could feel her eyes boring into him from across the room. While he was furious with himself for allowing things to go this far, he had no worries that he would be able to get himself out of it. That man deserved every strike. As for the one who put him up to the theft in the first place...

"Pastrami...you want half?" He glanced over in Emma's direction and saw her holding up the sandwich in her hand. "You know, I still owe you that favor." With a roll of his eyes, he turned away again. "Nice, fatty pastrami. Delicious way to clear the books."

"Well, I don't need you to remind me that you owe me a favor," he answered in a low, calm voice, although inside he was roiling. "And when the day comes that I make my request, it'll be for more than half a sandwich." They stared at each other for a moment, and Emma chuckled quietly to herself.

Then she came.

"Sheriff Swan, I'm letting you have thirty minutes with Henry," Regina's strong voice rang out as she entered the room with the boy. Emma stood and approached them, the surprise very clear in her face. He watched the interaction silently, a deep uneasiness settling in his stomach. Uneasiness and rage. So she was here to gloat. "Take him out. Buy him ice cream."

"You want me to leave you alone with a prisoner?" Emma asked uncertainly.

Regina wasn't looking at her. Her eyes were already fixed on him. "Twenty-nine and a half minutes," she counted down. No nonsense.

The boy and his mother shared a quick greeting, and then Emma glanced at him in the cell. There was no getting around this. The longer Emma stayed, the more frustrated Regina would get. If he wanted to maintain his control of the situation, he would need to let Regina continue thinking she had control of the situation. That would mean getting the sheriff out of the room as soon as possible. With a shrug at Emma, he said, "Bring me back a cone?"

Emma gazed from one to the other, clearly sensing the tension. "Just this once," she consented, reaching back for her coat. "Come on, let's go." Grabbing Henry, she left the room.

Regina continued staring at him. He glared back. "Well, you really wanted that little chat, didn't you?"

"Apparently this is the only way I could do it," she said, grinning and stepping toward him purposefully.

"Please," he bit out, pointing at the garishly blue couch beside the cell, "sit."

Her smile faded into a scowl as she moved to sit where commanded, positioning herself on the arm closest to him. There was a flicker in her eyes.

"Now," he said, choosing his words carefully, "when two people both want something the other has, a deal can always be struck." Looking at her intently, he asked, "Do you have what I want?"

She waited a moment to answer, a smug grin spreading across her face. "Yes."

It was no surprise to him, but he felt like he had been kicked all the same. She knew where and how to hurt him, but what made him the most uneasy was why she had done it. Why now? Had something happened? Was this because Emma was here, fulfilling prophecy and perhaps about to break the curse? No doubt Regina was angry that he had thrown that little surprise into the mix. Was she taking one last chance to strike at him before all her carefully laid plans fell apart?

"So," he grimaced, "you did put him up to it, then."

Regina shrugged. "I merely suggested that strong men take what they need."

He didn't hide the venom in his voice. "Oh yeah, and you told him exactly what to take, didn't you?"

"We used to know each other so well, Mr. Gold," she replied, almost condescendingly. "Has it really come down to this?"

He wasn't in the mood for her games. "It seems it has, yeah." Now it came to it. "But you know what I want. What is it you want?"

"I want you to answer one question," she said, holding up a finger. "And answer it simply." He froze, dread spreading through his body. "What's your name?"

So she knew. Or, at least, she suspected. That wasn't entirely surprising, either, but he hadn't wanted to lose this advantage quite yet. The edges of his mouth curled up in a smirk. "It's Mr. Gold."

Her eyes turned to ice, and her voice growled. "Your real name."

"Every moment I've spent on this earth, that's been my name," he answered, knowing it would drive her crazy. Still, it was the truth.

She leaned forward. "But what about moments spent elsewhere?"

He hesitated, feigning confusion. She wasn't the only one who liked playing games with others. "What are you asking me?"

"I think you know," she said matter-of-factly. Obviously she wasn't going to give up, not that he really expected her to do so. There was no getting out of this one. "If you want me to return what's yours, tell me your name," she demanded.

He gazed at her, judging her resolve, then finally grinned and chuckled softly in defeat. "Rumpelstiltskin," he admitted through gritted teeth. As much as he hated to give away his position of knowledge, he did take a moment to revel in the shock that filled her eyes as her suspicions were confirmed. And now that she knew, he definitely had no reason to hide his frustration with her. Standing up, he gripped the bars tightly. "Now give me what I want," he snarled.

"Such hostility," she commented.

"Oh yeah." His eyes were blazing. She wouldn't be so calm and sure of herself if these bars weren't between them. His eyes followed her every move as she slid her purse from her shoulder and withdrew the precious item from within it.

"Over this?" she asked, almost laughing. She held up a china teacup with a pale blue pattern on the side. Its rim was chipped.

He swallowed hard and stared as she held it none too securely between two fingers. One slip and it could shatter on the concrete floor below. Reaching for it automatically, he held his breath while she swung the cup back and forth, taunting him, seeming to enjoy the helpless look on his face and desperation with which he sought the his treasure. "Such a...sentimental little keepsake," she purred, and he finally grabbed it, pulling it firmly from her grip.

"Thank you," he murmured, relief evident in his eyes, "...your majesty." There was no gratitude in his voice. Pulling back, he held the cup possessively, sitting down on the bed once more and looking over it for any damage. The memories that were tied to it flowed over him once more. To think that he almost lost this...it was unbearable. He was angry with himself for allowing it to happen. It may seem like a "sentimental little keepsake" to the queen, but to him it was everything. Everything he lost. He could never get her back, but as long as there was hope that he could find his son, he would keep going. This reminded him of the price he paid, much dearer than he expected it to be.

"So," he said, much calmer than he had been a moment ago. "Now that we're being honest with each other, let's remember how things used to be, shall we?" He watched her closely. "And don't let these bars fool you, dear. I'm the one with the power around here. I'm going to be out of here in no time, and nothing between us will change." There was no hiding the threat in his last comment.

She stood and put her face up to the bars, not looking intimidated in the least. "We shall see."

His eyes widened at the threat in her own voice. She smiled confidently once more and then stalked out of the room, leaving him alone. What exactly did she mean by that? What could she possibly have that would turn the tables on him? He knew there was nothing. She didn't know what he knew. The only thing left that he cared for, she knew nothing about. Still, he couldn't shake the disquiet that had fallen over him at her final words. He stared at the cup in his hands, turning it over and holding it protectively.

She was bluffing.


	4. Reunion

The vial lay cool and heavy in his hand, the swirling potion created from true love shining as bright as the day he first concocted it. He lifted it up to the light. It was mesmerizing; he couldn't believe how close he was getting to finally accomplishing his goal. All the careful planning and manipulating of circumstances was finally coming to fruition. Once he found Bae, he was certain that everything would finally turn out right. Bae had always been a kind boy, forgiving of his father. He prayed that the boy would not have changed much. The pain from that lying puppet's deception still burned deep in his heart, and he sincerely hoped that the real reunion would not be so disappointing.

The bell on the front door announced the arrival of a customer. Anxiously, he shoved the vial into his pocket and picked up its golden case, closing it with a snap and burying it in a small wooden chest behind him. He could not risk something happening before he had a chance to complete the next step.

At the sound of a soft voice behind him, he leaned against the table, calming himself quickly so as not to appear guilty. He almost missed what was said.

"Excuse me, are you Mr. Gold?"

"Yes, I am," he replied, hearing the irritation in his own voice. "But I'm afraid the shop is closed—" As he turned, he saw who had entered his shop and froze. He was struck speechless by shock, disbelief, and a sudden burst of tangled emotions that he couldn't unravel.

That face, those eyes, the curls in her chestnut hair, now disheveled and unkempt...he had dreamed of her many times but had never, _never_ expected to see her standing before him again. The curse couldn't bring back the dead! He knew it was powerful, but it couldn't be that powerful. No magic could bring the dead to life.

"I was, uh," she began, clearly nervous and confused. "I was told to, to find you and tell you that Regina locked me up." He stared, still unbelieving, feeling as if his breath had been knocked out of him. Gripping his cane tightly, he moved forward with slow, labored steps, never taking his eyes off her as if afraid she might disappear if he so much as blinked. "Does that mean anything to you?" she asked uncertainly.

When he was just a couple feet away, he hesitated. Then he reached out for her. His mind still refused to accept that this was actually happening, that if he touched her he would find that this was just a fantasy. His hand brushed the fur on her jacket, and he could feel her shoulder underneath. "You're real," he breathed, suddenly grateful for the support of his cane. "You're alive!" She looked at him oddly, still tense and wary. "She did this to you?" he repeated, feeling the flickering fury inside him flare up to a blaze. So _that_ was what she had up her sleeve...?!

"I was told you would protect me." As she gazed at him, he realized that she was trembling slightly. What had Regina done to her? What had his Belle had to face all alone, not just in the land that was but also here in Storybrooke for the past 28 years—right under his nose?

"Oh yes!" He quickly closed the gap between them, pulling her into a tight embrace, his heart shattering. There was no hiding the emotion in his voice—not that he wanted to. "Yes, I'll protect you!" He vowed to himself in that moment that he would never allow Belle to fall into Regina's hands again, whatever it would take.

Belle hugged him back awkwardly, but then she pushed away. "I'm sorry, do I...do I know you?"

Of course she wouldn't remember him. Until Emma did her job in breaking the curse, he was just another stranger to Belle. He didn't think it would hurt this much, but he pushed that feeling aside. "No," he whispered, shaking his head. "But you will."


	5. The Return of Magic

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I apologize for the long delay in posting the next chapter. It was ready to go, just never posted. Obviously, the second season is now over (in the US). I may write more based on second season events, but we'll see how things go.

* * *

He had no time to waste. Now that he saw how deep Regina's deception had gone, he wanted – needed – to do this more than ever. True, he wasn't entirely sure what was going to happen, but it couldn't make things worse than they already were. Now he wasn't just out to find his son; he needed to protect Belle as well. Who knew what Regina would do once she found out he had Belle with him and knew that she was responsible for everything that happened to the girl after she left his castle. If ever he needed magic, it was now.

He could hear Belle behind him as they climbed the hill. She hadn't spoken much since they met in his shop, but she did stay close to him and kept looking around her nervously. He couldn't blame her. She was probably still in shock herself, having just been released from nearly three decades of imprisonment. He couldn't help grinding his teeth at the thought. There was no way he was going to allow Regina to get away with what she had done.

If there had been time, he would have taken Belle to the safety of his home and allowed her the chance to slowly adjust to the sudden change in her life. Truth be told, he was still in shock as well. How tempting it was just to hold Belle, to gaze into her face and feel her hair, to reassure himself that she was, indeed, alive and with him again. But this was more important at the moment. There would be time for the rest once this was done. Then he could build up for his next move.

The wind picked up and swirled the leaves at his feet, and it died down just as quickly. They weren't far from the well now. Everything was coming together far better than he had ever hoped.

"Wait!" he heard Belle call out.

He kept walking. "No, no. We're very close," he said. Nothing could stop him.

"Rumpelstiltskin, wait."

He stopped, and his heart paused a moment as well, jumping into his throat. If she knew his name, then...

Slowly he turned. This could be very good, or this could be very bad. He held his breath, not knowing which it would be. As she approached him, she smiled.

"I-I remember," she said, and compassion filled her eyes. "I love you."

Elation flowed through him, and he could breathe again. As she reached for him, he reached for her, and they embraced for a long moment. "Yes," he murmured, melting into her arms. "Yes, and I love you, too." It was the first chance he had to confess that to her, and he wanted to make sure she knew. When they pulled back, both of them had tears in their eyes. "But hey, there will be time for that." He reached up to touch her hair and hold her face. "There will be time for everything. But first," he started to pull away, "there's something I must do."

Confusion crossed her face, but she followed him as before.

As they drew near the wishing well, he reached out for her arm. Belle stared at the well curiously and asked, "What is this?"

"This is a very special place, Belle," he explained as he pointed at it. "The waters that run below are said to have the power to return that which one has lost." So many things had been lost, and he already had one of them back—the one he never expected to have back.

This was it. The time had come. Leaning on his cane, he made his way up to the well's edge, reaching into his pocket for the vial. As Belle drew closer, he removed the stopper and moved as if to pour the contents into the well. However, he couldn't risk not offering enough, so he dropped the whole vial instead. They both leaned forward to watch it fall to the bottom. As it splashed in the waters below, a breeze from deep within the well flew up and ruffled their hair, and both stepped back. He reached out for her arm again, longing for that confirmation of her presence with him. Deep violet smoke began pouring from the well, covering the ground and pooling about their feet. It continued to spread, flowing down the hill toward Storybrooke.

"I-I don't understand," Belle stammered, looking rather worried.

"We're in a land without magic, Belle," he told her, and then he grinned. "And I'm bringing it. Magic..." he said, the thrill of it filling him with strength, "...is coming."

She shook her head, not looking very pleased. "Why?"

"Why?" he repeated, unable to stop grinning. "Because magic," he purred, turning his gaze to her, "is power."


End file.
